Death Squad
by Trooper 3.6
Summary: When the curse of Class 3 and the dark force behind it show their true colors resulting in calamity of biblical proportions, a special team is assembled of people with experience and abilities capable of combating the paranormal. But many of the team members are monsters in their own right and are as likely to kill each other and innocent people as the enemy.
1. Chapter 1

April, 2008

Yomiyama, Japan

Kouichi Sakakibara looked down at his aunt Reiko's grave. It had been years since both her deaths, one at the hands of a mad-man and the other by his hands. Thinking back to that night at the lodge at the foot of Mount Yomi brought a familiar pain back to his chest. His surgery had removed all fears of another collapsed lung, but the pain came back every time he thought of her. She was like a mother to him. More a mother to him than his birth mother, whom he only knew from photos. He heard his grandmother trying unsuccessfully not to sob beside him. Behind him he could hear his Grandfather moaning his sorrows like a zombie.

"Poor Ritsuko… and Reiko too…" he uttered as if in a trance.

"Cheer up, dear," his wife tried, as futile as ever, to raise her husband's spirits. It was a depressing atmosphere, but Kouichi tried to visit them as much as possible. They had been so good to him in his year spent with them and they had been through so much. He knew his visits gave them a reason to keep going. And, of course he had another reason to come back. Her.

"Kouichi, won't you join us for supper tonight?" his grandmother asked.

"Of course, Grandma, I'd love to," he replied with a forced smile. After a few moments the three of them began making their way toward their car. "I actually think I could use a walk, Grandma," Kouichi said with a smile. "You both go ahead home, I'll be back later."

"Oh, off to see Mei, aren't we?" his grandmother asked with a slightly mischievous grin. Kouichi blushed red, but repressed an urge to deny it. Depressed as his grandparents were, there were not fools. They remembered the beautiful girl with the eye-patch he spent so much time with the year he lived with them, and how every time he visited he found an excuse to wonder off. One year they had even caught him out to lunch with her. It also didn't help keep it subtle that his father had blabbed to them the time she came to Tokyo to tour art museums with him. Kouichi also couldn't hide his feelings for her from them, even if he wanted to he knew it was something else to occupy their minds and distract them from their mourning.

"Funerals… I've been to so many funerals…" grandfather moaned. "It would be so nice to go to a wedding…" his voice trailed off. Grandmother couldn't help but giggle.

"Oh, don't embarrass the boy anymore dear!" grandmother mockingly chided her husband, as if she hadn't intended to say the same basic thing. "Have fun, Kouichi, invite her to dinner if you want."

"Sure grandma, thanks," replied Kouichi. With that, his grandparents departed. Kouichi began his walk through the town he had only lived in a year, but had become very dear to him. Even ten years later the town hadn't changed much at all. It all looked so peaceful. He passed the Yomiyama River, then a small park he remembered as the one He and Mei had passed through years ago on their first moon-lite-walk together. Kouichi felt for the little black box in his pocket. He wondered when would be the best time to ask her. Would she even say yes? He felt like they had a very intimate connection. She had even stolen a brief kiss the night before he'd moved back to Tokyo ten years ago. He knew how he felt for Mei, but would she return his feelings? Would she want to be that closely connected to someone? Kouichi had never considered himself a romantic. But Mei seemed to bring that out of him. He approached the gallery/shop of his prospective Mother-in-Law. The Twilight of Yomi-Blue Eyes Empty to all the World.

Kouichi entered the shop to be greeted by the familiar voice of grandma Amane. As if a pre-recorded message she greeted him and offered him some tea. He politely declined and made his way to the back of the shop and down the staircase to the basement. As always dolls of all variations were strewn about the basement, not nearly as organized as above. Kouichi decided to visit the shop before going up and knocking on Mei's front door. He approached the western-style coffin in front of the black curtain. In it stood the doll that so resembled Mei. It was as if Mei had been frozen in time at age 14.

"So you're still here," he sighed out loud with a nostalgic smile.

"Welcome back Sakakibara…" Mei's voice came from behind the coffin. Despite the nostalgia, Kouichi couldn't help but jerk backwards in shock. He immediately regretted it as he heard a fain giggle. Mei Misaki came out from behind the black curtain with a playful smirk.

"You really enjoy doing that to me don't you?" Kouichi laughed. Mei continued to smirk and held up her hand, holding her thumb and index finger just centimeters apart.

"I'll stop doing it when you stop falling for it," she said, as mildly as ever. "Your so cute like that." Kouichi opened his mouth to deny having fallen for it, but he never could keep the truth from her. She always seemed a step ahead of him. The two child-hood friend made their way up to the apartment via the elevator behind the curtain. Mei retrieved two canned teas from the fridge and they both made themselves comfortable on the couch. Mei explained that her sudo-mother, Kirika, was shut up in her studio as usual. Kouichi asked how she had been and their conversation became pretty casual. As usual, he did most of the talking. Mei eventually brought up the start of the new school year. Soon third year class three of Yomi North Middle School would find itself with an extra student. And if the conventional method of pretending one of the students did not exist failed to keep the bizarre deaths at bay, it would be up to Mei to use her special ability to pin-point the one who is dead.

In the years since middle school. Mei had never permanently moved from Yomiyama. She, like Mr. Chibiki had taken up the task of following the class and observing the curse that had taken hold of third year class three. Thus far, she had needed to take matters into her own hands three times. After the class's counter-measure had not held. She would watch the class and remove her eye-patch. Her mystically empowered doll's eye would enable her to see which student was an apparition of a deceased person connected with the class's past. She and Chibiki would then find a way to isolate and return the living-ghost to death.

It was never something Mei enjoyed, but she knew that once the deaths started there was no other way to assure the safety of the class and their family members. Once Mei followed the deceased student home from school and ran him over with her car. By the time she looked through the rear-view mirror, the body had already vanished. Another year she had gone to the school and arranged for Mr. Chibiki to have the dead-student called from the class room to the office downstairs. She had climbed to the top of the stairs just as the dead-student came to descend and push her down. As before, the body vanished seconds later.

The worst had only been two years ago. The charm did not hold, and on the same day Mei came to pinpoint the dead-student, she and Kouichi had faced the most nightmarish experience they had since the mountain lodge in 1998. It was class three's gym period and the whole class was out playing sports and exercising. An entire family being killed in a car accident had been a clear sign that the curse was active that year. It was July, and very hot and sunny. Kouichi had come to visit and decided to go with Mei that day. She had just spotted the dead-student, a girl, who both Mei and Kouichi soon recognized as Izumi Akazawa, who had died in Kouichi's arms that night at the lodge. Kouichi's stomach had heaved at the sight of her, he wished he hadn't come. He knew what had to be done, and even though she had tried to kill Mei that night, the thought of watching her die again hurt him. She had clearly developed a crush on him that year, and after her death Kouichi had felt sorry he could not reciprocate. That was when it happened.

Apparently one of the student's fathers had gone to a casino in Tokyo and had gotten into debt with the Yakuza, a debt he had failed to pay. As a result, a black van pulled into the school parking lot. Then suddenly the van mounted the curb and drove out onto the school lawn. Moments later the van had driven up to the field behind the school where class three was having gym. Six men exited the van, all wearing suits and armed with assault rifles. Kouichi had recognized some of the weapons as AK-47s. One of the gangsters, clearly the leader with a taste for the classics, was armed with an old Thompson submachine gun; of Hollywood gangster-movie fame. The entire class and even the gym teacher were frozen in disbelief. Kouichi and Mei could barely believe what they were seeing themselves. Somehow, the curse had summoned a death squad.

The six-man death squad began firing their weapons at the thirty students in work-out clothing without a word being spoken. Teenaged boys and girls were falling to the ground with their bodies mangled by bullets. Kouichi had snapped out of his shocked trance and shielded Mei with his body. He dragged her towards the old school building where the auxiliary library was. Some of the students got the same idea, others simply scattered across the field; most of them were mowed down by the merciless gangsters. The lead gangster with the tommy gun emptied his weapon into the class's teacher and the gym teacher before reloading with a wicked laugh that made Kouichi grip Mei's hand even tighter and run even faster. The rattle of automatic gunfire split through the air. Kouichi knew the police would be on their way soon. But would anyone be left alive? Pop-culture and politics liked to say that this sort of school shooting could only happen in America, where everyone had the right to own a firearm. Personally, Kouichi was beginning to feel it might be nice for non-murderers, like himself, to be allowed to own a gun at that moment.

Kouichi, Mei, and about ten other students made it inside the building. Akazawa was among them. Akazawa tried to take charge and encouraged anyone who had their cell to call the police. Moments later bullets ripped into the building, two students were grazed by bullets, one was hit in the head and fell to the floor lifeless. Everyone else dove to the floor in terror. The lead gangster entered the hallway, a blinding smile on his face. Kouichi threw his body over Mei's and gripped her tightly. He felt her hand tightening around his. Gunshots echoed down the hallway again, but not from the gangsters tommy gun. Kouichi looked up to see Mr. Chibiki holding a smoking snub-nosed revolver in his hands. Kouichi turned to see the gangster fall to the ground, his chest pocked with bullet wounds. The librarian was as resourceful as always.

"Is everyone alright?" Chibiki asked. Those who were not too shocked to answer complied. Soon the wail of police sirens were heard above the rattle of automatic gunfire. Mr. Chibiki reloaded his revolver. "Everyone stay here and stay down!" he said. And made his way towards the building's entrance overlooking the field. More gunfire was soon heard, some of it seemed to be coming from the direction of the sirens, which told Kouichi that Yomiyama's finest had arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, Kouichi noticed the lead gangster trying to get back up, he had drawn a pistol from his jacket pocket. Kouichi acted quickly. He rushed over to the wounded gangster, kicked him hard in the face, then pressed his foot down on his wrist, the one with the gun. A moment later, Mei was by his side. She knelt down and, trembling, took the pistol from the man's hand. She then stood and turned towards Akazawa, now trembling on the floor against the wall.

"I'm sorry," Mei said, her voice and face both expressed a deep sadness. Akazawa looked up in confusion. Before Kouichi could object, Mei fired the weapon, shooting the dead-girl in the head. The blast of the gunshot made Kouichi's ears ring. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, until the ringing stopped. By the time he opened them again Akazawa was gone and the other students were trembling on the ground in silent terror; as if they hadn't even noticed the gunshot. Mei put the pistol down on the ground. She said nothing and kept her back to Kouichi, but he was certain he heard a sniffling noise escape. Kouichi kicked the downed gangster in rage. It was all he could do to keep himself from crying.

The final body count was twenty one students killed, two teachers killed, and two wounded. Seven students survived unscathed. According to the police, the Yakuza underboss who had ordered the slaughter committed suicide the next day. Possibly by order of the syndicate, for bringing so much attention to the organization. No one in the class or school remembered the student Izumi Akazawa. Mei was visually shaken by the encounter that day. Kouichi drove her home and spent the night with her on the couch. She had never let go of his hand.

Now, two years later, sitting once again on the same couch together, the two of them sat sipping tea. Kirika had entered the room briefly to say hello. She put on her social and friendly facade as usual before returning to the solace of her studio. An awkward silence soon developed. Kouichi considered popping the question.

"About two years ago…" Mei began, cutting him off. "I spoke with Mr. Chibiki, he agrees that that year the calamity was expressing more anger and rage than ever," she said.

"Anger?" Kouichi echoed in question. Chibiki had always claimed not to notice any malice in the curse at all. It had all seemed natural, like a storm or an earthquake. But even Kouichi had to admit, something felt off about the death squad. Mei continued.

"It seemed to him that there was a tension in the phenomenon. Like it was thirsty for blood and had pent up tension and rage. It's also strange that you and I were caught in the crossfire, literally. Neither one of us had any relatives in the class that year, but the disaster just happened to occur when we were there," she explained. Kouichi's breath caught in his throat. He had always considered it a coincidence that the two of them were there when it happened, but now…

"You think it might have been targeting us?" Kouichi asked, unable to stop his voice from cracking. Mei shook her head.

"Just me, actually, she answered naturally. Kouichi's eyes widened.

"Because of how you've been interfering with it?" he asked. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he had a feeling something like this would happen eventually. It was one thing to observe the phenomenon as Mr. Chibiki had been doing for years. But what Mei had been doing was different. It was more like meddling. Mei nodded silently.

"I've been having dreams lately," she said. "In them, the doll in the coffin downstairs comes to me in my bed. She tells me I've been causing her trouble lately, then she laughs and tells me not to worry. She says soon even I won't be able to stop what's coming. Then I see them, everyone who's ever died by the curse of class three. All of them standing around my bed. None of them say anything, their eyes seem vacant. Then they all start to moan and sneer at me. And then they all reach for me and lung towards me!" her voice became more intense and uncharacteristically shaken as she spoke. Her right eye was wide open and her hands were grasping each other tightly and trembling. Kouichi was trembling himself. "Then I wake up," she finished, seeming to calm down a little. Kouichi came closer to her and put a hand over hers. Mei flinched but did not pull her hands away. Instead, to Kouichi's surprise, she leaned into his chest and shut her eye. Kouichi put his arm around her and held her close.

"Maybe it was just a bad dream, maybe you should just get away from town for a while. Take a break you know?" Kouichi said, trying unsuccessfully to act like he meant what he said. He felt Mei shake her head in his chest.

"There's more," she said. "I saw the color of death in the dream. Not just from the people and the doll, it seemed to fill the air in the dream. I already went down to the basement and looked at the doll in the coffin. I couldn't see the color of death. I think, whatever it was, was just using the doll as a puppet. Some kind of dark force of death put the curse of class three all those years ago and Mr. Chibiki and I think it's been doing this for a reason," she explained.

"What reason?" Kouichi asked. Mei shifted in his embrace and looked up into his eyes, her face was frozen in terror.

"I think something terrible is about to happen," she said.

Meanwhile

Kouichi's grandmother set the dishes out on the table. She made sure to put a set out for Mei. The rice cooker was on and she was still deciding what meat to make. She made her way towards the bedroom where her husband would be kneeling before the shrine.

"Ritsuko! Reiko!..." her husband's voice called out. She stopped in her tracks. She hadn't heard him call out like that in years. She rushed into the bedroom and saw him standing upright and staring at two younger women in the room. She blinked and jerked backwards in surprise. She was about to ask the women who they were when she recognized them. They were her daughters! Ritsuko and Reiko, both of whom were long dead! They seemed to be staring blankly at her and her husband. Shock overtook her, she couldn't bring herself to move or speak. What was happening? Had she gone mad? Was she seeing ghosts? In an instant, her daughters began sneering at the two of them, then moaning-almost growling. Before she could react, both women lunged towards them, roaring with rage. Their eyes blazed murderously.

Meanwhile: Washington D.C.

The senator's office phone rang. He picked it up almost instantly. "Is the team ready?" a voice asked him.

"Yes," he replied gruffly. "It won't take long to drag the worst of them out of the hole I threw them in. They'd leap for a chance at shortening their sentences."

"Are you sure we can trust them?" the voice asked. The senator smirked.

"I know we can't," he replied. "That's why we're taking precautions. We've been over this before sir. They are attached to the command of the FEAR team. They step out of line, they'll have them on a leash, remember?" he asked rhetorically. "Worst case scenario, they find a way around out precautions and kill our boys; we delete their files, they cause more havoc then their already is, we just claim they broke out of prison. We have built-in deniability with them, its perfect."

"These are bad-guys though," the voice said. "Our boys are the best of the best, but the men we're sending in with them are the worst of the worst! Are we sure the situation in Japan requires them?"

"The CIA's paranormal unit has had tabs on this town for years, sir," the senator said sounding sincere. "Whatever our scouts on the ground are saying is going down, is going to make Armikham look like a minor skirmish. Our unsavory team members have abilities, skills, and experiences that make them perfect for the job. It would be nice if more of our good guys had these abilities but all we can do is work with what we have. So unless we want to move in without them and risk mass casualties for the good guys, we're just going to have to play ball with the bad kids, sir." There was a long silence on the phone. "Do we have a green light sir? The senator asked.

"Do whatever it takes, senator," the voice finally said. "Eliminate the threat."

"You've made the right choice, Mr. President," said the senator. He hung up the phone, then picked it up and dialed another number. "Get me online with FEAR," he said when the phone was answered. "We are green-lit for Operation Death Squad."


	2. Chapter 2

Authors notes: Hello everyone. I hope you all enjoyed chapter one. I forgot to give some notes with the last one so here we are. As I'm sure you've all figured out this is kinda my response to the upcoming Suicide Squad film. I have this labeled as an Another-FEAR cross over but it actually crosses a bunch of video games over. I've included unsavory characters from a bunch of different horror themed games, including Condemned Criminal Origins, Resident Evil, Silent Hill, The Suffering, The Darkness, and Blood. I've have created a multi-franchise Suicide Squad of my own, simply called Death Squad. I hope you all enjoy this fic. I've been a fan of Another since first watching it a few years ago. I even went as far as reading the book, which is just as good as the show and gives more insight and details to the story. Please give feed-back.

Jackie Estacado awoke to the sound of the large security door at the end of the cell block opening up. He soon heard dozens of boot-steps marching down the block. Jackie removed the blindfold and opened his eyes to the blaring lights around him. Given the nature of his aliment, he was surrounded day and night by lights in the ceiling and walls of his cell. If it weren't for the blindfold they gave him he'd never get any sleep. On the bright side he never had any trouble reading library books. On the rare occasion they would allow visitors (usually government suits and shrinks) there were always extra guards and extra lights up in the visiting room. Soon the guards were all lined up outside his cell. He could see a few of them through the safety glass window in the door. They were all decked out in full riot gear. "All this for me?" he thought out loud. "I'm flattered fellus."

The door burst open a few seconds later and the guards poured in. Jackie raised his hands above his head in submission, but the guards took no chances. Smart men. They wacked him across the face with their night sticks then went for the gut. Once they were confident he knew his place they dragged him out into the cell block, also with extra lights shinning, and down the hall. Jackie kept his head low, he knew if he looked any of them in the face, they'd smack his down. What was going on? Maybe he was about to meet his first parole board.

The gaggle of guards dragging Jackie dropped him to his knees. "Get up Estacado!" one of them barked. Jackie complied and found himself out in the jail yard. It was broad daylight, probably around noon. The blazing sun of the Mojave Desert beat down on him, something dark in his mind hissed. Jackie giggled at the demonic parasite's misery. It was hard to believe that the famed Area 51 was really just an elaborate prison. A prison built to house "special" prisoners; like him.

He looked around and saw that the guards had dragged his neighbors out too. Sunderland, the wife-killer with a conscience, was standing to his left. Past him was that smiling long-haired hippie-looking freak named Sullivan, the bastard gave Jackie the creeps. Jackie looked to his right and saw Cohen, the marine, and Nikolai, the Russian. Beyond them was the old geezer Caleb the cowboy, and Tork, the butcher of Baltimore. There all seven of them stood in their orange jumpsuits. They all shared the same look of annoyance and uncertainty. Jackie was pretty sure they weren't all about to be executed though.

Sunderland was an interesting puzzle, he was a retail worker who smothered his sick wife with a pillow in the hospital. He then had a paranormal episode in some New England town in which he temporarily forgot what he'd done and fought off demonic monsters to piece his state of mind back together. The demonic presence in the town clearly wanted him to off himself, but he ended up walking outa the town with his wits about him, he even turned himself in. Got a life sentence. He'd be in a normal prison if he hadn't shot his mouth off about what happened to him in the town, which got the attention of the Feds who ran the prison. Jackie guessed they thought he was a security hazard in a normal prison.

Walter Sullivan was a stone-cold psycho. He had grown up in the same tainted town Sunderland had his episode in, in an orphanage no less. He was known for brutally murdering people, women, children, ect, all in the name of resurrecting his mother in some bizarre demonic ritual. What's more, he had been executed and pronounced dead years earlier. Somehow he had conjured himself back to life and almost performed the ritual. The fed took him alive and had been keeping him locked up, probably for research.

Cohen was a marine with an attitude. He was a convicted war-criminal, slaughtered an entire village in Africa. He was originally sentenced to death but was able to escape in the wake of the Raccoon City incident back in 98. New evidence came to light that implied Cohen was innocent, but apparently someone had friends in high places so rather than risking a re-trial, the fed just locked him in the hush hush prison. Jackie didn't think he was guilty, not that his opinion mattered.

Nikolai was a real snake. Former Soviet Spetsnaz, turned mercenary and started working for Umbrella Corp after the curtain fell. He betrayed and murdered his own team to steal from the corporation during the Raccoon City incident and managed to negotiate his way out of the city alive. It didn't take long for the fed to grab him and lock him up. One look at his shark smile and Jackie knew Nikolai couldn't be trusted.

Caleb the cowboy, like Sullivan, gave Jackie the creeps. He claimed to be a time-traveling gunslinger and former member of a dark cult. Caleb looked freakishly old and his eyes had a faint red glow to them. Caleb had allegedly been betrayed by the demon he worshiped and went on a quest for revenge that consequently prevented an apocalypse. "Stranger things have happened," Jackie had thought out loud when he'd heard the man's story.

Then there was Tork, the butcher of Baltimore. He had allegedly broken out of an island prison, overrun by demons, escaped to Baltimore, which itself was facing a demonic invasion, and taken on the demons and a rogue para-military group. But even after saving the city and countless lives, the fed figured they didn't have the evidence to declare him innocent for the murder of his wife and sons so they locked him up here. Jackie also had his doubts about Tork's guilt.

The guards and some military types all formed a ring around the prisoners. Jackie still had no idea what was up. "What's this supposed to be?" asked Cohen. "Field Day?" he snickered. As if on cue, a hum-vee pulled up from behind the guards and soldiers. Four uniformed figures got out. Three men, one woman. Jackie couldn't help but eye-ball the woman. She wore what looked like a SWAT team uniform, Jackie could barely make out the name Mason on her name patch. She was blonde, or at least wanted to be. Jackie could make out brown tinges that gave away dyed hair. Despite her looks she had a no-nonsense look on her face and had an uzi clutched in her arms. Jackie had a feeling she meant business.

The next one he noticed was the leader. He had learned to recognize military ranks and spotted captain's bars on the man's collar and the name Raynes on his name patch. The man next to him was a sergeant named Burke. The other soldier was dressed totally in black with long black hair and beard. Special ops guys were known to be given liberties with the whole clean-shaven rule in the military. Jackie couldn't spot a name patch on him though. He correctly deduced that these guys were the reason they were all there.

There was some rustling from behind the guards and two more guards appeared dragging a man who looked like some homeless bumb off the streets. The bumb looked pretty lean and fit but had overgrown hair and a poorly kept beard. And the stench of alcohol and some other earthy smells were radiating from him. The guards un-cuffed the bumb and one of them soon tasted the man's knuckles. The bumb was about to swing at the other guard when Captain Raynes cut him off.

"Take it easy Agent Thomas!" Raynes shouted. "There's a situation and we need your insight and experience," he said.

"Agent!" Jackie thought. "You gotta be shitting me!" he groaned out loud.

"Just tell em to keep their fucking hands off me," the rag-clade agent grunted. "And what the hell are we doing here? With them?" he asked with a glare towards the prisoners. Jackie could already tell this guy was gona get on his nerves.

"These are our recruits," Raynes announced. "Like it or not," he finished with a low voice. Mason huffed in disgust.

"Fake blonde's ain't my type anyway sweetheart," Jackie snickered, incurring a deadly glare from Mason.

"Lock it up, Estacado!" one of the guards bellowed at him from behind. Jackie felt a night stick stab at his side. He turned his head slightly to look at the guard, who glared back at him.

"Better be careful, donut muncher," Jackie growled. It sounds like these fellus want me to join their little team. You wouldn't wana pick a fight with the good guys would you?" Jackie finished with a grin and a wink.

"Enough!" Raynes shouted. "Okay gentlemen, let me introduce myself. I'm Capt. Raynes, this is Sgt. Burke, Sgt. Mason (formerly of Boston PD SWAT), and this is our Point Man; he doesn't do names so just call him Point Man," Raynes explained. Each of his team members nodded with their intro, except the Point Man, who just stood there looking mean. Jackie wasn't sure what to make of him.

"Walter Sullivan, James Sunderland, Jackie Estacado, Billy Cohen, Nikolai Zinoviev, Tork, and Caleb; both of whose last names are not on file for some reason…" Raynes called off all the in-mates names like a roll-call. The last two of which he said with clear sarcasm. "Your Uncle Sam would like to make you all an offer you can't refuse, no offensive pun intended Mr. Estacado."

"It's fine," Jackie smirked.

"I won't bore you with too many details just yet, I don't have all of them yet anyway," Raynes went on. "Long story sort, you're all being recruited to the U.S. Army, to join my team and I on a mission to somewhere very dangerous, to go on a mission you probably won't live through. If by some miracle you don't die, Uncle Sam promises to, at the very least, shorten your sentences if not release you outright."

"Like hell he will," Cohen giggled.

"Bullshit," Jackie sneered.

"No bullshit around here gents," Raynes replied, pulling a legal document from his uniform. "I have it in writing right here, all you need to do is agree to have tracking devices injected into you and to follow our orders, and once it's over, you may soon find yourselves free men."

"Horse shit," Caleb grumbled in his grizzled country drawl.

"Mason," Raynes turned to the fake-blonde. "Hand each of them their copy of the document to make believers out of them," he ordered.

"HORSE SHIT!" Caleb threw his head back before shouting. Jackie and the others couldn't help but laugh. Mason just glared and followed her orders, giving each man a copy of the document. Jackie was surprised.

"Well what do you know?" he giggled out loud. "The new President really did greenlight this shit… What an asshole!" he finished with a laugh. The Russian spoke up next.

"I notice it doesn't specify how many years will be trimmed off our already un-clear sentence, and it doesn't say how soon we will be released if we come back alive," Nikolai said with his usual wicked grin. "Very convenient for Uncle Sam."

"Read a little further," Raynes cut him off. "It all depends on if the mission was accomplished and if my men and I say you played nice." Cohen laughed.

"So you're the guys who go after ghosts and paranormal stuff?" said Cohen. "FEAR; First Encounter Assault Recon," he read out loud from the document. "Nothing like a snappy code-name," he finished with a smile.

"I thought I made my intentions clear when I turned myself in all those years ago," Sunderland spoke up. "I just want to do my time and square myself with what I did. Besides I don't see how helpful I could be, I was never even in the military. You were fine with locking me up in here to keep my mouth shut about Silent Hill for all these years and now you suddenly want me to do your dirty work!"

"You got anything better to do, Sunderland?" Raynes asked. "Sit around in your cell, read the bible, feel sorry for yourself, pine for a woman you loved just enough to murder?" Raynes finished harshly. "If it's some kind of redemption you want then maybe you should try doing something useful with your life! You fought your way out of Silent Hill! You escaped a force that most people who get caught up in, never escape! All of you have been through some crazy-ass situations and survived insane odds against forces you shouldn't even have survived against, let alone came out on top of! You can either stay locked up and be treated like chained beasts for the rest of your lives or you can come with us and risk your lives for the chance of at least some kind of freedom," he finished. "So you want to keep making jokes? Or do you want to saddle up with us?" he asked.

Jackie was impressed. The man had a way with words. But Jackie wasn't fully convinced. Didn't they realize that as soon as he got somewhere with the lights off he could easily kill the soldiers and run off? But then, the feds new all about him and his mob associates back in New York. If he ran off they might try to make trouble for Aunt May and Jimmy the Grape and the others. And Raynes was on the level, then it meant that something was out there causing trouble that scared the fed more than he did! Jackie knew he was no hero, but he did care about his friends and family back in New York. And anything big and scary enough to make the fed come and ask him and his fellow inmates for help could be dangerous to everyone; including the New York mob.

"What do you think, Mother?" Walter Sullivan asked out loud, his face to the sky and his eyes shut. Jackie especially didn't like the thought of having to work with Sullivan. Even the New York mob knew better than to work with psychos like him. The mob's professional standards were relaxed compared to some, but even they drew the line somewhere. From what Jackie had heard of Sullivan, he knew this man didn't draw the line anywhere. Sullivan was silent for a moment before his eyes shot open. His face twisted into a smile. "Mother knows best," he hummed. "Alright, Captain. I'll do it," he said plainly. Jackie rolled his eyes.

"What the hell," Cohen huffed. "It can't get a whole lot worse than zombies and giant centipedes. I'm in."

"Lieutenant Nikolai Zinoviev, at your service," the Russian said with a wicked grin and a sharp salute. To little surprise, none of the military returned his salute.

"Count me in," Tork chimed in.

"Well I was getting bored here anyway," the century-old cowboy sighed with a firm nod.

Sunderland sighed deeply. "Well I guess I can die just as easily out there as in here," he said. "I doubt it can get worse than that red pyramid thing. I'll do it," he finished.

Jackie realized it was his turn. He chuckled at the situation. "A bunch of prisoners given a chance at freedom in exchange for taking on a suicide mission," he thought out loud. "I think I saw a World War Two movie like this once," he laughed. Sunderland and Cohen laughed along with him. The military types kept strait faces; tough crowd. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, a deep strained voice hissed at Jackie.

"What are you waiting for? Say yes!" the Darkness demanded its prisoner. The monster wanted out and saw this mission as its chance.

"Fuck yourself!" Jackie growled in response.

"What was that Estacado?" Sgt. Burke called out from beside Raynes. Not a hint of anger in his voice, he clearly hadn't made out what was said.

"I said I'm in," Jackie lied. "I can be a boy scout if it means getting outa here," he went on with a smile. Raynes sneered and nodded.

"Glad to hear it," he said, his voice expressing no gladness at all. "Okay doc, get crackin," he called out. On cue, a doctor and a nurse emerged from behind the wall of guards and soldiers. The doctor carried a large syringe. "The doc is going to inject tracking devices in your necks, this is one of the conditions so deal with it," he finished grumbling. None of the prisoners objected. Sullivan and Sunderland both held still as the doc did his work. The doctor and nurse were both visibly shaking with nervousness. Jackie smiled.

"Scared of little old us are you?" he thought. Jackie figured these two knew what kind of monsters they were sticking a needle in. Soon it was Jackie's turn. "Don't worry, doc," he said with a smile. The man replied with a nervous smirk. "I'm cool as long as you don't grab my balls and make me cough," he joked. "Unless you do it for him huny…" Jackie winked at the nurse; a pretty young brunette. He almost didn't notice her flinch, but her eyes spelled her terror out well enough.

"You secure that shit, Estacado!" the guard bellowed behind him. The doctor and nurse both jumped with shock at the yelling. Jackie turned to the guard.

"Take it easy there, tiger," he said. "You're frightening the professionals here," he grinned wickedly. A sharp pain in his neck drove the smile from his face. "Fuck!" he roared. The two professionals fled towards Cohen. Jackie had always hated needles. He had hoped a few jokes would loosen the doc up, all he did was make his hands shakier. Jackie grumbled to himself that he'd gotten shots from a drunk mob-doctor with steadier hands than that. Soon the doctor had finished his round and rushed off behind the soldiers with the nurse.

Raynes motioned to the guards, and seven guards approached the prisoners, each with what looked like an over-night bag. Each one left his bag at the feet of one of the prisoners and walked away. Jackie was surprised to look down and see his name on the bag. "These are your personal clothing," Raynes explained. "Get changed," he ordered. The prisoners looked at each other, then the guards.

"Can we get a little privacy?" asked Sunderland, for all of them. Raynes replied with a blank stare. Jackie took that as a "no". Nikolai began undressing.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of," he said. Soon the rest of them were getting changed too. Jackie wasn't surprised to see Mason, the fake-blonde, looking skyward. Most of the prisoners were at least middle-aged, but they all looked lean and grizzled. They were fed just enough to keep healthy, albeit the food wasn't very good, and had little to do with their spare time but exercise and read books. Jackie and Cohen boasted the healthiest and youngest bodies in the group. And both picked up on the interested glances from female guards and soldiers, except of course for Mason.

"You ladies liking the angle of the dangle?" Cohen asked as he stretched himself out, buck-ass-nude. The female guards and soldiers didn't even smirk, the men just glared. "Tough crowd," Cohen smiled.

Jackie smiled as he stood up in his old clothes and his lucky black duster. He felt like himself again. Cohen stood in a grey tank-top, blue jeans and military boots. Nikolai had on his old Umbrella Corp combat uniform, fitting wardrobe for the occasion. Tork had just unzipped his jump-suit and put on the only article of clothing he had, a white tank top; he'd been picked up by the fed in Baltimore, without ever having gotten out of his Carnet Island prison uniform. Sullivan had put on civilian clothing and a large blue duster. Jackie felt a stab of annoyance, like the psycho were trying to steal his thunder. Sunderland stood in blue jeans, a shirt, and a green jacket, it almost made him look like a soldier… almost.

"Oh and by the way, gentlemen," Raynes began, his arms crossed and a grin on his face. It was the first time Jackie had seen him break a smile. He had a bad feeling about this. "Especially you, Estacado," he went on. "That little plan I know some of you are thinking up about going along with us until it gets dark and then running off or using your little… abilities to kill me and my team. Not really gona work out for you now," he finished. Mason, Burke, and the Point Man all cracked menacing grins of their own. Then the coin dropped. Why hadn't Jackie thought of it before? The doctor. The injection. Jackie looked at his fellow prisoners-turned-soldiers. They all shared the same wide-eyed look of realization.

"What the hell did you do to us?" Jackie demanded.

"Relax, Estacado," Mason called out. "You boys will all be fine as long as you behave," she finished smiling.

"The tracking chips the doc injected into your necks were equipped with explosive charges, all linked to my team-mates and to the big-wigs in D.C." Raynes explained. "All we or they need to do is press a button and it will trigger and explosion. Not a very big explosion, mind you. But just one big enough to…" he paused raise his fist and flex his fingers outwards. "Open your arteries, you'll be dead in seconds."

Nikolai burst out screaming vulgarities in Russian. Sullivan smiled and clapped his hands. "Well played Captain. Well played indeed," he mockingly cheered. Jackie clenched his fists so tight he thought his fists would bleed.

"Bastards!" Cohen bellowed. Caleb just stood with his arms crossed, his face twisted into a scowl. Sunderland face-palmed himself.

"You fuckin feds!" Jackie finally growled. "How the fuck do we know you're ain't just gonna blow our necks open anyway once we're done with your little mission?" he asked. The smile ran away from Rayne's face.

"You don't," he answered. "Part of team-work is trusting people at their word. You're just gonna have to trust us." Jackie spat and told him to screw himself in Italian. The darkness laughed.

"Better listen to him, Jackie," it said. "We can always find a way around this later," it said. Jackie's temper didn't cool.

"Maybe I'm not interested in your little deal anymore," Jackie barked. "What then? You gonna press my button?" he asked.

"The brass in D.C. told me to threaten you with that if you guys took offense and tried to back down," Raynes began. "But I'm not gona. I don't want anyone on the ground with me against their will. That's why I waited till after you all agreed to do it before I put the doc to work," he explained. Jackie paused. The man was telling the truth. If it was all a load of shit from the get go, they could have just injected them all and told them they had no choice but to play soldier. Maybe they really were going to let them go after this. The tracker and the bomb was probably their way of making sure they weren't just letting bad guys out to go back to doing what bad guys do. Jackie still didn't like it, but he was pretty sure Raynes was on the level. Nikolai stopped shouting, so he figured everyone else felt the same.

"The brass will be watching everything that goes down by satellite feed," Raynes went on. "You disobey, we press the button. You kill someone who we don't think needed to die, we push the button. You try to run off, we press the button. You kill us, or the brass thinks you could have done more to save us, we press the button. In fact you murdering scum are going to have learn the meaning of discipline really fast in order to stay alive," Raynes finished. "Do you all understand?" he asked. All seven prisoners nodded. "Good," said Raynes.

"Because if you don't, we press the button!" Cohen finished for Raynes with a smile. Raynes just glared at him.

"Don't tempt me," he said. The chopping rumble of helicopters was heard and the prisoners looked up to see a double engined Chinook approaching. "I hope none of you are afraid of flying. As for you, Lieutenant," Raynes said with a step towards Cohen. "Welcome back to the special forces."

"Shit!" Cohen grunted.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes: Hope you all enjoyed the last one, sorry about any spelling and grammar errors. I really need to remember to proof read these things. Anyway here is the next chapter. Enjoy.

Jackie was annoyed. It wasn't the bumpy helicopter ride from the prison that bugged him. It wasn't even the twelve hour ride in the AC-130 that they weren't even half done with yet. It was Caleb. Jackie gazed at the impossibly-old man in silence. Caleb sat across the plane from him, leaned back with his feet crossed and his hat pulled down over his eyes. The old man was napping. He had barely noticed the cowboy's change of clothes when they climbed on the chopper. He couldn't believe he had worried about Sullivan out-doing him. Caleb was dressed in a brown leather duster and a cowboy hat of the same color. The red tinge of Caleb's eyes and his age-wrinkled face complimented his clothing in such a way…

If Jackie had any doubts about Caleb's past before, they were gone now. Caleb would have been right at home in Dodge City or riding with Jesse James or Billy the Kid. He definitely looked old enough to have done all those things. The Darkness had been completely silent about Caleb. Jackie took that as a sign of fear. At first Jackie was relieved to have someone who could frighten his dark parasite to silence. But then it dawned on him. This guy could show him up. He might even try throwing his weight around when they get where they're going. Having the military types was annoying enough. The last thing he needed was this old fart trying to boss him around.

Thankfully, Caleb remained silent thus far. Which eased Jackie's worries slightly. Soon Jackie's annoyance transferred to the Russian. Nikolai was a trained killer, and proud of it. As the flight dragged on, Nikolai began boasting of his combat experiences. He even mentioned Raccoon City and the zombies and mutated monstrosities he'd fought there. It was a good distraction from the boredom, but Jackie could tell he was trying to put on a dick-measuring contest. Which annoyed him.

"Ever blew your own brains out and walked it off through hell?" Jackie asked with a grin. "That would impress me," he giggled. Nikolai stared at him blankly. Jackie thought he saw a glint of fear amid the blankness. He had guessed right, Nikolai had heard about him. "You ought to try it some time. A military man like you might appreciate it. It looked suspiciously like World War One for some reason. Germans zombies, tanks, planes, and everything."

"You want hell?" asked Cohen. "Try a couple weeks in an African jungle. That damn continent don't need zombies to kill you," he finished with a bitter laugh.

Jackie clapped his hands mockingly. "Captain America up in here!" he laughed. "How about you Tork?" he turned to the Baltimore gang-banger. "You gona join in and tell us some of your exploits?" he offered. Tork just looked in silence for a moment then looked away. "How about you Caleb?" he called out to the old gunslinger, to wake him if he was asleep.

Caleb grunted, as if he'd just awoken. "You'll see my tricks when the show starts, kid," he grumbled.

"Who the fuck are you callin kid, old man?" Jackie spat. He had a feeling the old goat would talk down on him. Now was his opportunity to establish dominance. Caleb pushed his hat up to his forehead and looked, blankly, at Jackie. Jackie was already glaring at the old man. He clenched his fists when their eyes met. It might have been the shade of his hat, but Caleb's red eyes seemed to be blazing brighter than ever. Jackie bit back his nervousness, hoping it wasn't showing.

"The twenty-some-odd year old pecker-wood city slicker, who thinks just because his great-grand-daddy bequeathed him a shadow-huggin parasite, he's William Bonney," Caleb answered. Jackie felt his nails dig into his palms even harder. It was a shame there were so many lights on in the plane.

"I say that's some tough talk coming from a wrinkled old fart," Jackie growled. Caleb didn't even blink.

"Better to be a wrinkled old fart than a greasy little back-shootin whop what can't even protect his own woman," Caleb sneered with a menacing grin. That tore it.

"YOU HICK FUCK!" Jackie roared as he burst from his seat. He charged at the seated gunslinger like a mad bull. Caleb didn't move and continued to smile. Jackie didn't care, soon the old man wouldn't be able to get up or smile if his life depended on it. He was inches from grabbing Caleb's throat when a solid impact to the head sent him tumbling to the floor.

Jackie shook the bell-tower out of his ears and stumbled to stand as the room slowly stopped spinning. Once he had his bearings again he looked into the glaring eyes of the Point Man. Jackie was impressed. The Point Man was at the far end of the cargo-hold, near the entrance to the cock-pit. Not only was he fast, but had razor sharp reflexes and a sledge hammer up his sleeve.

Soon the fake-blonde, Mason, was at Point Man's side. She fixed him with a glare that would melt steel and trained her uzi on him. Jackie smiled. "Easy there huny, someone could get hurt," he chuckled. "Good hit, Mr. Man," he winked at his attacker and pumped his thumb into the air. Point Man said nothing. "Mr. Man here saved your life, hillbilly," he grinned sadistically at Caleb.

"Your life dego-boy," Caleb replied with a matching grin. "Your life," he repeated, aiming his finger at Jackie like a school-boy playing Billy the Kid.

"LOCK IT UP!" Mason roared like a lioness. "Both of you!" she went on. "Remember we can kill any of you fucking psychos whenever we want!"

"I told them this was a bad idea from the beginning," the new-comers voice and the stench of whiskey and B.O. told Jackie that Agent Thomas was invading the conversation. "Each of these scum-bags alone is a ticking time-bomb. Put them together and you don't have a team, you have a bottle of nitro-glycerin waiting for a good hard shake!"

"Is that what that smell is, Agent?" Nikolai's voice intruded. "Nitro-glycerin? I thought for a moment is was that distilled piss you Americans call bourbon. If you're going to squat on streets and drink people's charity into yourself it could at least by some quality vodka." Nikolai giggled.

"Fuck you!" Thomas spat.

"ENOUGH!" shouted Sgt. Burke as he emerged from the cock-pit. "Save it for the enemy. We're half way to the drop point."

"What enemy?" asked Cohen, who stood from his seat. "Where the hell are you taking us?"

"Japan," the sergeant snapped. "We'll be on the horn with the brass soon, you maggots will get the full mission statement then. For right now, sit tight and try to pretend you're all friends. Because once we get where we're going, the only thing keeping any of us alive will be each-other," he finished.

"Sir, yes sir!" Jackie sounded of like a good-little-recruit and snapped off a mocking salute. He gave Caleb one last grin. "Until next time old man."

"He's got a point, Jackie," Sunderland said behind him, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Whatever they're about to throw us at, we'll have a better chance at getting out of this alive if we all work together." Jackie viciously slapped the hand away from his shoulder.

"Keep your fuckin hands off me, wife-killer," he growled, thrusting his finger inches away from Sunderland's face. He glared at the middle-aged man with all the hatred and violence he'd focused on Caleb moments ago. "And since when do you give a fuck about getting out of this alive?"

"I don't!" Sunderland snapped, Jackie's finger not deterring him. His voice was stern but his face betrayed no anger. "But you should. You, Tork, and Billy are still young," he said. "The three of you can still start over, you can live your lives on the outside. Not like me or Caleb, and definitely not like Sullivan."

"I take exception to that!" Sullivan called out from the far end of the hold. His voice sounding indifferent and almost humorous.

"All you need to do is play ball with these guys," James went on, ignoring the serial killer's interruption. "Then you can go free. They'll keep tabs on you but it's better than rotting in that prison." He finished. Jackie was taken back. The middle-aged wife-killer actually sounded like he cared. Prison life had clearly toughened this former retail clerk up. Jackie had to admit he had grit to stand his ground and try to lecture him. But he hated being lectured. Still he couldn't help being amused and slightly touched.

"Thanks dad," Jackie huffed with a laugh. "But I think I'm a little beyond a mentor by now," he said and sauntered back towards his seat. "Don't worry though, Jimmy-boy, if I need help smothering anybody when we get to the frontlines I'll let you know," he winked as he sat down. Sunderland rolled his eyes.

"Forget you!" he huffed and turned back to his own seat.

"Don't bother trying to reason with the little cuss," Caleb drawled. "If he had enough sense to reason he wouldn't have tried to suck me into the Bolsheviks pecker-measuring contest." Jackie blinked. Caleb had caught on to Nikolai's game too. Jackie tried hard not to be impressed.

"Well that's what I get for trying to have friendly conversation!" Nikolai huffed indignantly, but kept his usual menacing grin. Mason and Point Man turned and walked cautiously back to their seats. Agent Thomas rolled his eyes and face-palmed himself.

"This was a bad idea," Thomas moaned.

The day had not started well for agent Ethan Thomas. His comrades in the FBI found him in a run-down dive bar in the Bronx. He had just spent the last dollar he'd begged off the street for a double shot of bourbon. He'd been sipping it slowly, wanting to make it last. That was when the skin-head punk sucker punched him.

Before Ethan knew it he was on the floor. His shot splashed all over his face. He looked up into the wide, crazed eyes of the skin-head. Ethan thought it was odd the bastard didn't have a swastika tattooed on his shaved forehead. Instead there was a tattoo of a red circle, with three smaller red circles inside it forming a triangle. Ethan wasn't sure if he was a skin-head or just another drugged out gang-member; but then there wasn't much difference between the two. Ethan's assailant roared like a lion. He began screaming about a lost disciple of God and the return of "the sacraments." The punk went on to shout for Ethan and the bar-tender to turn away from the drink and prepare for the end-times.

It didn't take long for Ethan to tone the punk's bizarre sermon out. He tasted the bourbon on his lips and knew this was the last taste of it he'd have that day. Maybe for days to come. That was not good. The booze was the only thing that helped keep the visions at bay. Ethan didn't know the science of it but somehow alcohol weakened the strength of his psychic senses. It was one of the reasons why he hadn't gone back to the Bureau, even after Rosa let him know he'd been acquitted of the murder charges. They'd make him clean-up. They'd put him back to work. He couldn't face that again. Vanhorn had told him his ability was a gift. But Ethan only knew it as a curse. Getting shit-faced was his only path to peace and this gutter-trash had just denied him his peace!

The bald punk had barely finished preaching his new age bullshit when Ethan thrusted his steel-toed boot up into his groin. The punk grunted in pain and staggered backwards. His back arched forward as he grasped his groin with both hands. Ethan didn't wait for him to recover. He climbed to his feet, grabbed the punk's head and began slamming it on the bar over and over. As he pummeled the punk's head on the wooden counter he heard snapping sounds. It could have been the wood, his nose, or his jaw. Ethan was too far-gone with rage and bloodlust to give a damn. Then a different cracking sound made him stop. He looked up to see the bar-tenders tense face behind both barrels of a shotgun.

"Get the fuck outa my bar!" he ordered, visibly shaken. Ethan couldn't blame him. He was a far-cry from his former self. He hadn't shaved or changed clothes in weeks. His face was pocked with the cuts and bruises he'd come to accept as part of his every-day struggle to survive. He looked more like one of the crazed junkies in the subway or abandoned buildings than an FBI agent. He could see his reflection in the terrified eyes of the bar-tender. He looked like a monster.

As if on cue, the front door of the bar burst open and a dozen FBI agents in full riot gear stormed into the bar. They said nothing, but Ethan knew they were there for him. He let go of the punk and put his fists up, determined not to go down without a fight. He did. The agents swarmed him, knocking him back to the floor. He was powerless to resist as they cuffed him and dragged him towards the door. Ethan thought he could hear the fanatical punk shouting again for a moment. "The Sacraments will be fulfilled! In the rising sun!" he shouted. Ethan's ears started ringing as the punk finished. As the agents dragged him out into the blinding light of the morning sun, the image of a doll in a black dress blared into his mind. He squinted and shook it from his head. His ears stopped ringing after a moment. Ethan cursed the bastard for spilling his drink.

After herding him into a van, one of the agents explained the situation to him. He was being called back to duty, whether he liked it or not. There was some kind of situation in Japan and an outside benefactor concurred that Ethan's unique abilities made him the man for the job. The agent went on to explain that he'd be given alcohol in small increments to keep the effects of withdrawal at bay. And once the mission was accomplished he would be let go. But only if he cooperated. Ethan knew better than to refuse. He asked the agent if Rosa would be involved. He didn't know.

Ethan missed Rosa. She had practically begged him to come back to the agency. She had even offered to let him stay at her place for a while. But he couldn't do that. His episodes had been getting worse and worse. And there was the chance that they could attract unsavory attention. Rosa had almost gotten killed the last time he involved her. She had even risked her career by warning him with a written note that she was wired, back when the FBI still thought he had murdered his supervisor. He didn't want to put her at risk. Maybe it was best that she wasn't involved.

A few helicopter rides, a few hours and three quarters of the way across the Pacific Ocean and there Ethan was. Forced onto a team of military spec-ops and convicted murderers, and heading towards what he could only speculate was a suicide mission. Despite everything, Ethan had to admit his luck was technically improving.

After a few more hours of boredom, Sgt. Burke emerged from the cockpit again. He was wearing a parachute. Mason and Point Man seemed to take this as a que and began handing parachutes out to the rest of the team. Ethan took his parachute from Mason nervously. He had never like heights and he knew where this was going. "You gotta be fuckin kiddin!" Jackie huffed, clearly seeing his own vision of the future, and not liking it any more than Ethan did.

"Relax fellus it's easy," Cohen said with a grin. "Your first time is never all that bad. It's the second and every time after that gets to you," he went on.

"Unless chute does not open," Nikolai chuckled. "Then first time is pretty bad. But then you don't need to worry about second time, yes?" Ethan decided he hated the Russian. After a few minutes of fiddling with the chutes, everyone had theirs on. Just then Capt. Raynes entered the hold. He was also wearing a parachute and was carrying one of those new-fangle-computer tablets.

"Alright everyone on your feet," Raynes ordered. Mason, Burke, and Point Man snapped instantly to attention. Ethan and the others obliged more sluggishly. "Alright Task Force Omega, time for your brief," he continued when all eyes were on him.

"Task Force Omega?" Jackie repeated. "Sounds like a bad video game," he said with a laugh.

"Cut the shit!" Raynes grunted. "Here's the situation. About twenty-four hours ago, the town Yomiyama, Japan went dark," he went on. Raynes held his tablet up to show a gps zoom-in on the town. It was in the mountains, a good distance from the nearest city, Tokyo. The screen showed some recent photo-shots of the town. It wasn't small but not quite a city.

Raynes went on. "No radio contact, no cell-phone coverage, no internet, and all land-line to the town have been disconnected; despite no evidence of lines being down. There was no earthquake, no fire, no explosions reported, nothing seems out of the ordinary. There is, however a slight anomaly with the weather, it is unseasonably cloudy, rainy, and windy, but nothing that should cause storm warnings. Less than an hour after the coms black-out, one of Langley's informants in the town gave a disturbing report."

"Langley?" Cohen said. "What's some little mountain town in back-woods Japan have to interest the CIA?" he asked. Ethan was about to ask the same thing.

"The CIA, special investigations wing, has been watching Yomiyama for about twenty years now," Raynes explained. "Apparently there have been a number of strange and mysterious deaths involving one of the classes of a middle-school there. Something about the class being haunted and the students of the class being prone to deadly accidents and murders."

Jackie rolled his eyes. "A cursed class?" he giggled. "All schools have things like that, I remember there was a rumor about the lunch-room being haunted by the ghost of a dead nun at the orphanage I grew up in," Jackie said. "It was a load of bullshit though. Turns out it was just the sister who ran the place sneaking down there at night for her secret liquor stash. Bit of a nasty shock for her when it mysteriously disappeared," Jackie finished with a laugh, some of the others joined in, even Ethan. Mason fixed Jackie with her usual glare. "Don't give me that look, huny," he grinned at her. "She was nun, she really shouldn't have been drinking at all. Hell, I did her a favor."

"Cohen, Estacado, thank you both for the interruptions." Raynes snapped. "Langley's informant managed to get a faint call out via satellite phone. He said that people were being attacked all over the town but people he knew to be dead," he paused. The group was silent. Ethan thought he'd miss-heard at first, but the stark silence told him otherwise.

"Are we talking another T-virus outbreak here?" Cohen asked. "If so, I'm pretty sure the BSAA would be more ideal for this mission."

"No viruses here people," Raynes answered. "No zombies, no mutations, and no it's not a gang. Before the satellite link went out, our informant said numerous people who had died over the years in connection to 'the cursed class 3', as he called it, have returned to life and are attacking and killing everyone they find."

"Ghosts on a rampage," Caleb grunted.

"Shouldn't they call the ghost busters?" asked Jackie with a grin.

"Not exactly ghosts," Raynes explained. "They're not spirits, they actually appear to have physical bodies and look just like they did when they died. Except that they seem to be permanently pissed off and out for blood. The informant said he saw a few cops shooting at one of the dead-men and the bullets didn't seem to have much immediate effect on him. Our job is drop into the town, assess the situation, establish a stable communication with command and eliminate all hostiles. As well as secure the informant and as many civilians as possible."

"Shouldn't the Japanese be handling this?" Ethan asked. "If the CIA is so sure about this ghost-outbreak why not contact the Japanese Self Defense Force or their police force?"

"Already been done," Raynes answered. "Every police unit that's entered the town has gone dark. Gunshots have been heard from the police barricades on all roads leading in and out of the town. But no radio contact, no survivors; just gunshots and screams." Ethan was sorry he'd asked. "We'll be over the town momentarily," Raynes said and nodded to Burke and Point Man. The two of them began handing out weapons to the team.

Ethan recognized his .45 Colt and Taser as Burke handed them to him. It had been a while. He'd given both to Rosa to keep the Bureau off him. Ethan scanned his team-mates. Caleb gratefully accepted two berretta 9mms, a sawn-off shotgun and a flare gun from Burke. Cohen accepted a Python 44 magnum from Point Man, who went on to give Nikolai a Samurai-Edge 9mm. Tork was given two magnum revolvers and a small, improvised knife. Jackie's eyes widened with delight as Point Man gave him two engraved .45 caliber pistols. Jackie seemed to recognize them. Ethan figured these weapons were all personal possessions of the convicts. Sunderland was given a 9mm automatic and Sullivan a revolver. Sullivan began stroking his gun, like it was a pet. Ethan thought he heard Sullivan mutter something about his mother to it. Ethan and the rest of the team placed their weapons in the holsters on their chutes.

A red light started flashing in the roof of the cargo hold. "That's our cue, Omega," Raynes said. "Don't worry about your chutes. I'll activate them myself by remote control," he explained and held up a small remote device in his hand. "And if that doesn't put your minds at ease, command is watching this whole thing from D.C. If anything happens to me on the way down, the brass will activate your chutes."

Faint clapping was heard and Ethan turned to see Jackie applauding and grinning. "You feds sure thought this whole thing out didn't you?" Jackie giggled. "But good luck getting us to jump out the back of this thing," he said with a cocky smile. Ethan rolled his eyes. He couldn't wait to see Mason kick him over the edge. Just then the red flashing light went out and was instantly replaced by a green one.

Raynes smiled at Jackie. "Actually, we thought of that one too," he said. He raised his hand holding the remote again and pressed one of the buttons. A metallic clunk was heard beneath the team's feet and floor gave out from under them.

Instants later Ethan was in free-fall, screaming his lungs out. He thought he could hear his teammates screaming along with him. After several seconds he was sure he could make out Jackie screaming "FUCK ME!" Ethan might have enjoyed that if he weren't screaming down the sky at terminal velocity. The sky was clouded and Ethan couldn't see for several seconds. Then the Ethan dropped below the clouds and could see the town. In the dreary dark of the overcast the town looked desolate. Not that Ethan cared at the moment. The ground was getting closer and closer, still not chutes were deploying.

He wanted to shout "Raynes deploy the chutes!" but he couldn't control his screaming long enough to form words. Ethan saw what he thought was a school building rushing towards him. All he could do was brace for the crushing impact. When a sudden thud jerked him slightly upwards. The chute had deployed! He was mere seconds from the ground. Before he could figure out how to control the chute he realized he was heading straight for a first floor window of the old-looking building. "Shit!" Ethan gasped. Seconds later he had crashed through the window. Then all went black.


End file.
